Riffing off Nighthawks

Space stills. Atmosphere coagulates. Objects conjure.  The hats hang in their densities. The windows refrain from inviting. The doors remain perpetual possibilities, obscured and exhausted.  They have known each other. But what is knowing but inopportune misglances? One understands more in a glimpse than hours of mutuality. Time deceives; knowledge, in its safe familiarity, obscures understanding.  She … Continue reading Riffing off Nighthawks